The Night Circus - favorite quotes

"The bonfire ignites in an eruption of yellow flame.
Then the second chime follows, and they become a clear sky-blue.
A third chime with a third arrow, and the flames are a warm bright pink.
Flames the color of a ripe pumpkin follow the fourth arrow.
A fifth, and the flames are scarlet-red.
A sixth brings a deeper, sparkling crimson.
Seven, and the fire is soaked in a color like an incandescent wine.
Eight, and the flames are shimmering violet.
Nine, and violet shifts to indigo.
A tenth chime, a tenth arrow, and the bonfire turns deepest midnight blue.
On the penultimate chime, the dancing flames change from blue to black, and for the moment, it is difficult to discern the fire from its cauldron.
And on the final strike, the dark flames are replaced with a blinding white, a shower of sparks falling like snowflakes around it.  Huge curls of dense white smoke swirl up into the night sky." pg. 120

"'Secrets have power,' Widget begins. 'And the power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well.  Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them.  Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it.  So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.'" pg. 226

"'So by losing his secrets, the wizard gained immortality.  His tree stood long after the clever young girl was old and no longer beautiful, and in a way, he became greater and stronger than he had ever been before.  Though if he were given the chance to do it all over again, he likely would have been more careful with his secrets.'" pg. 228

"'Call me by my name,' he says.  He has never heard her speak his name and holding her in his arms he suddenly craves the sound. 'Please,' he adds when she hesitates.

"'Marco,' she says, her voice low and soft.  The sound of his name on her tongue is even more intoxicating than he had imagined, and he leans in to taste it." pg. 349

"'I've tried,' Marco says, cupping her face in his hands. 'I have tried to let you go and I cannot.  I cannot stop thinking of you.  I cannot stop dreaming about you.  Do you not feel the same for me?'

"'I do,' Celia says.  'I have you here, all around me.  I sit in the ice Garden to get a hint of this, this way that you make me feel.  I felt it even before I knew who you were, and every time I think it could not possibly get any stronger, it does.'" pg. 352

"Inside, the train is opulent, gilded, and warm.  Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnight and stars." pg. 402

"It would be like pulling the Murray twins apart and expecting them to be the same.  They would be whole but not complete." pg. 459

"'There are no more battles between good and evil, no monsters to slay, no maidens in need of rescue.  Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.'" pg. 497

"'They are the circus.  You can hear his footsteps in the Labyrinth.  You can smell her perfume in the Cloud Maze.  It's marvelous.'

'You think being imprisoned marvelous?'

'It's a matter of perspective,' Widget says.  'They have each other.  They are confined within a space that is remarkable, one that can, and will, grow and change around them.  In a way, they have the world, bound only by his imagination.'" pg. 502

"'He was seeking immortality, which is a terrible thing to seek.  It is not seeking anything, but rather avoiding the unavoidable.  He will grow to despise that state if he does not already.  I hope my student and your teacher are more fortunate.'

'You mean. . . you hope they can die?' Widget asks.

'I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.'" pg. 503

"'Someone needs to tell those tales.  When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative.  There's magic in that.  It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict.  From the mundane to the profound.  You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose.  That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words.  That is your role, your gift.  Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy.  Do not forget that.'  He takes another sip of his wine.  'There are many kinds of magic, after all.'" pg. 505

Happy 11th Birthday, Sage

She was born with it.  It's a gift.  A talent.  Sage was born loving children.  She is not only willing to help babysit little ones, she truly loves it, and them.  She has always been drawn to those younger than she.  She is chomping at the bit to be old enough to have babysitting jobs. I love how I can always volunteer to help a neighbor with emergency babysitting needs.  I know that Sage will not only be willing, but eager to step right in and take over, which she consistently does.  I get to just love the kids and Sage gets to be surrogate mom.  When she was about 8 years old, as we talked about what to do for her birthday party, she said she wanted a separate party that she would plan and carry out all by herself for all of her much younger friends, which she did.

In addition to loving children, Sage also loves to organize.  When she is in the right mood, she will organize anything:  a closet, a drawer, her room.  Not to say that her room is never a mess - it is - but everything is relative.  A mess for her is not really very messy for a stereotypical tween from what I hear. 

She also loves to create interesting hair styles for herself complete with intricate braids, twists and buns.  She has done her own hair since the time she could hold a brush.  Her school picture from pre-school at age 4, is of Sage sporting her own style created and realized on her own.  Only on occasion, when she finds a style she wants to try that is just a little too intricate, will she ask me for help.  It really is quite impressive.

She has her own sense of fashion as well.  She is quite particular about what she thinks matches and complements.   Dave has a pair of green sweats that he almost never wears, except to races so that if he doesn't end up getting them back in his drop bag, he is not bothered.  One night several years ago, he happened to be wearing them when he went in to say good-night.  He asked if he could give her a good-night kiss.  She responded immediately and emphatically with, "Not if you're wearing those pants!"

Sage is very responsible, and teachable at school.  It just about kills her to not turn in a homework assignment.  When she has the right motivation from a caring teacher, she would move mountains to finish every task asked of her.

Sage is my buddy, my partner, my always willing companion when I visit a friend, go run an errand, or anything I need to do.  She is very very social and loves to be with people, and most of the time, I will do.  But, she sure loves time with her friends.  They are more willing to play virtual school, or city, or even virtual church.  Everything she creates, she creates big.  She and her friend made up a dance, set up our backyard for the premier, created invitations and tickets, and provided refreshments for all who attended - it was a pretty exclusive list of attendees.  That's just one example.

She has her own set of challenges and difficulties which includes the much practiced talent of annoying her sister, but Sage is a gift and a blessing to me, and most people who know her.

How to Lose 5 Pounds in One Day With No Drugs and No Exercise

Impossible, you say?  No, really.  I tried this method myself last Friday and found the claims to be completely accurate.  You just need to follow these five easy (ok, not quite easy) steps.

Step #1:  Be so weak and sick that you can barely move a muscle all day.  The one time you try to venure downstairs, you have to take a break on the top of the stairs to sit down and moan, then you whimper down each step, continuing until you finally reach your bed again and gratefully fall back into bed.

Step #2:  Throw up so many times during the 24 (ok, 32) hours that the thought of food or liquid causes your stomach to convulse and threaten to dry heave.  

Step #3:  Finally, successfully make it downstairs when the kids come home from school where they gather around you and watch hours and hours of "Bones" and "Say Yes to the Dress", while you fade in and out of coherence.  Luckily, um, or unluckily, the girls seemed to like this step.

Step #4:  Turn down a getaway with your spouse the one, and only, time they plan one from beginning to end right down to choosing and booking the hotel.  In Dave's defense, he claims to be the "Idea Man", and I'm in charge of Operations.

Step #5:  After a whole day of lying immobile, you collapse into bed at 8:30 and sleep the sleep of the dead until morning.

After the successful completion of all five steps, you wake up feeling 95% better, and voila, 5 pound weight loss!  What's the first thing I did to celebrate my accomplishment of the weight loss (and being able to stand up)?  I ate a handful of peanut M&M's.  I'm going to enjoy gaining back every ounce I lost.  Speaking of which. . . I'm hungry.